On Folly Beach (48 page)

“What’s that?” Heath asked, indicating the spot where the ribbon had been.

Leaning over, Emmy noticed a small, rolled-up piece of paper that had been wedged between the bottom and sides of the velvet lining. Using her fingernail, she pried it out, then held it between two fingers. “It’s rolled small—like a person would do if they wanted to stick it in a bottle.”

His eyes met hers and she knew he’d been thinking the same thing. “You read it. I feel enough like an eavesdropper on your family.”

He surprised her by not arguing, trading the box for the rolled piece of paper. Slowly, as if to avoid tearing it, he unrolled it and flattened it against his palm. He squinted to see the tiny handwriting before reading the words out loud.

My darling Margaret,

I need to talk to you, to explain everything. What I’ve done is despicable. But

I need to tell you why—not to justify anything, but to keep you safe. Just give me this one last chance—that’s all I ask. I want to take you far away from here, someplace you and I can start anew and leave this all behind us.

I promise that if you walk away after I’ve told you everything, I will never bother you again. And if you don’t come at all, then I’ll have my answer. I’ll do what you ask, and marry Cat and be a father to the child, and I’ll find a way to protect you from afar. But if you ever loved me as I still love you, you’ll come. Meet me Wednesday night at our special place near the lighthouse at eleven o’clock. I’ll be waiting.

Heath looked up. “It’s not signed.” He handed it to Emmy so she could get a better look.

Her blood seemed to flow more slowly in her veins as she stared at the familiar handwriting. “I know who wrote this.”

He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Peter. I recognize his handwriting from the inscriptions in the books to Maggie and Lulu. I wouldn’t except the capital M and the lowercase g are unusual enough for me to have noticed them and remembered.” She indicated the capital M in Margaret’s name. “See how there’s a tail before the first leg and after the last? And how the g doesn’t just have an umbrella handle at the bottom but actually duplicates a typewritten g? I noticed that right away—it’s one of the criteria I used when I determined that the Peter who inscribed the books to Maggie and Lulu hadn’t written the notes in the book margins.”

Heath pulled back. “Then who did? I can’t picture my grandmother with multiple lovers. She wasn’t like that.”

Emmy touched his arm. “I know. But maybe Peter did write both. And for some reason disguised his handwriting in the inscriptions. Which would make sense . . .” Her words trailed off as she realized what she was about to say.

“Go on,” Heath said. “We’ve gone too far to quit now.”

“Well, I was saying that it would make sense that he was disguising his handwriting if he were having an affair with Maggie and didn’t want Cat to recognize the handwriting if she should ever find one of the notes.”

“But who is Cat’s baby? And what did Peter do that was so despicable?”

Emmy studied him silently for a moment. “And why did he need to keep her safe?”

Heath nodded, staring at the lone white cross that rose out of the dirt like a question. “There’s only one person who can answer any of this.”

After picking up all the items from the grass, Emmy stood. Handing the empty box to Heath, she said, “It’s up to you to decide what to do next. I’ll understand if you don’t want to upset her.”

Heath was silent as he considered her words. “It’s been long enough,” he said. “I think Lulu knew it, too, and that’s why she was trying to get to the box. A lifetime is a long time to live with unfinished business. Or guilt.”

Closing the box’s lid, he turned it upside down to study it more closely. A short thunking sound came from inside, surprising them both.

“I thought the box was empty.”

“Me, too,” Heath said as he flipped the box again and the heard the same sounds. He opened the lid and they both looked inside, seeing only the red velvet lining.

“Switch with me.” Emmy gave him the items she held while she took the box and pressed her fingernail into the small crevice where she’d found the note. Then squeezing her two fingers together, she tugged and was rewarded with the lining pulling out of the box, revealing a small cavity between the lining and the bottom of the jewelry box. Turning the box on its side, Emmy hit the corner and a gold ring clattered out of the box and into her opened palm.

She held it up for both of them to examine. It appeared to be a man’s signet ring, plain yellow gold with a flat black onyx square at the top and the initial K in gold standing out in bold relief against the onyx.

“I’ve seen this ring before,” she said. “In a photograph of Peter, he’s wearing it on his right hand. It’s definitely the same one.”

“But his last name was Nowak. Where does the K come from?”

Emmy frowned. “Maybe it was a gift or something. Or an inheritance.”

“Possibly,” Heath said, not sounding convinced. “Of course, this gives the monogram on the handkerchief new meaning, too.”

A drop of rain landed on the box, and they both looked up at the sky. “Come on,” Heath said. “Let’s put everything back and go find out how soon we can see Lulu.”

They replaced the earrings, barrette, skate key, handkerchief, ribbon, note, and penny, but Heath held on to the ring. It began to rain harder as they ran back to the truck, both of them sodden by the time they’d closed the doors.

Heath started the engine just as Emmy’s cell phone began to ring. She looked at the number and saw it was from Paige’s Pages.

“Mama?”

“Hi, Emmy. We’re swamped and I only have a minute, but I wanted to tell you something before I forgot.”

“What is it?”

“Remember how you told me to call you and let you know if I remembered anything about Folly’s residents or its history?”

“Yes.” Emmy looked at Heath and shrugged.

“Well, I thought of a few things that I thought you might find interesting. They probably don’t have anything to do with what you’re looking for, but I thought I’d tell you anyway.”

“Sure—go ahead.”

“Let’s see. . . . Did you know that Folly Beach was first called Coffin Land? It was because all the ships heading toward Charleston harbor had to drop off their sick passengers so no sickness would be spread in the city. When the ships came back to pick them up, most of them had already died.”

Emmy raised her eyebrows in Heath’s direction. “That is interesting. Anything else?”

“Now I know this one is definitely too late for your time frame, but did you know that Folly Beach had its own serial killer? A man abducted and murdered three teenage girls in the early seventies and buried their bodies. They did catch him, thankfully.”

“That’s awful. Again, not pertinent . . .”

“Oh, I know. And there’re other tidbits, too, like how it’s rumored that Elvis Presley vacationed there before he was a star, and how some big gangster was arrested in the fifties by FBI agents on the corner of Erie and Center Street. Or was it East Ashley and Center? Oh, never mind. You did ask.”

Emmy smiled into the phone. “I did, and thanks. It’s all entertaining and I appreciate hearing about Folly. Please let me know if you think of anything else.”

“I will. Oh, wait. There was one more thing. I was talking with your father this morning about Folly Beach and how my favorite restaurant when I was a girl was the Atlantic House, which isn’t there anymore because of Hugo.”

“I know. Heath told me. What about it?”

“I remember a local historian coming to talk to us in grade school, and he mentioned that the old house that eventually became the restaurant was an abandoned structure during the forties, and that some thought it was used by Nazi spies to signal out to the U-boats offshore. It probably has nothing to do with anything, but I thought I’d tell you just in case since we’re talking the same time period.”

“Thanks, Mama. I don’t know yet if it will be any help, but I’ll let you know.”

“You’re welcome. And there’s one last thing.”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to tell you that your father and I are planning to come for a visit.” They were both silent for a moment. “Your dad tells me it’s been long enough, and I think he’s right.”

Emmy stared out at the mismatched houses on the side of the road, which had become as familiar to her as the cornfields of Indiana, watching as the rain made patterns on her window. “Mama?”

“Yes, Emmy.”

She traced a rivulet of rain with her finger as it made its journey down the glass. “How do you know when it’s been long enough?”

Emmy could sense her mother smiling into the phone. “When you realize that love doesn’t have a time span. Only pain does. I think sometimes it’s hard to distinguish between the two, so we just hold on to both of them like they’re inseparable.”

“Really?” Emmy frowned into the phone, not sure she understood. “Well, I’m glad it worked for you. And I’m glad you and Dad are coming.”

“Good. Somebody just walked into the store. I’ll have your daddy get in touch with the details.”

“Okay. Good-bye.” Emmy waited for the sound of her mother hanging up before she closed her cell phone; then she returned to staring out the window and thinking about what her mother had said, and how much longer she’d have to wait until she understood.

CHAPTER 27

FOLLY BEACH, SOUTH CAROLINA

May 1943

Maggie opened the downstairs front windows wider, inviting in the cooling breezes and the sounds of the band from the pier. She imagined the crush of people and the brightly colored dresses of the women as they swished their skirts under the hanging moss from the rafters, dancing to “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” and “I’ve Got a Gal in Kalamazoo.”

Her feet remembered the steps as she went from window to window, pulling back the curtains and raising the blackout blinds at least until the night came and all light and sounds had to be hidden again. The music kept her mind too busy to think about the packed suitcase and the notes to Lulu and Cat that were hidden under her bed or the letter from Aunt Edith saying she was on her way. Or that the house she loved that held all the memories of her mother was no longer hers.

Her humming stilled in the back of her throat as she peered out the last window, recognizing a familiar figure clad in service khakis on the street in front of the house. He seemed to be hesitating, deciding on whether to move up the steps to the porch or continue walking past. Without really thinking why, Maggie raised her arm and waved to him. “Robert—hello.”

His eyes drifted to where she stood and he smiled without moving. “Hello, Maggie. It’s been a while.”

She ducked back inside and went to the front door and opened it. With a quick glance up the stairs, she stepped out on the porch and closed the door quietly behind her. “Hello, Robert. This is a nice surprise.” She hadn’t seen him since before Cat’s wedding, not blaming him for avoiding Folly Beach and all of its associations. Maggie had found that she’d even missed Robert’s easygoing manner and sense of humor as he’d once been a frequent enough visitor that she knew how he took his coffee and that he liked vanilla better than chocolate.

He removed his hat as he approached, his smile warm but his face and eyes weary. The sounds of laughter and shrieks from the carnival punctuated the Glenn Miller melody from the pier, creating its own summer music, which Maggie imagined she’d remember long after she’d left this place.

“You’re looking well, Maggie.”

“Thank you.” She indicated a rocking chair. “Why don’t you come sit and I’ll get us some iced tea so we can catch up? It’s cooler out here than it is inside.”

His face turned serious. “This actually isn’t a social call.” He frowned down at her. “Is Cat at home?”

“She’s sleeping. The baby has a summer cold and was crying all night long. I told her to nap when the baby did.” She didn’t add that she’d been the one up all night rocking him after Cat gave up trying to quiet him and returned to her bedroom with a pillow over her head.

He nodded. “That’s fine. It’s actually you I wanted to talk to.” His eyes flickered toward the front door as if he were half hoping that Cat would appear. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

Maggie’s heart seemed to freeze in her chest. He knows I’m leaving. Forcing herself to remain calm, she made her lips smile. “But we can at least sit and be comfortable, can’t we? And I’m dying of thirst—won’t you please join me in a glass of iced tea?”

Robert paused just for a moment before nodding. “Sure, Maggie. That would be fine.” He removed his hat as he stepped up on the porch and remained standing until Maggie returned with two full glasses of freshly brewed sweet tea. When she handed him his glass, she hoped he couldn’t see the way her hands shook.

They sat and Maggie held her glass with both hands to keep them still. “What can I help you with?”

He took a long sip of his tea, and Maggie wasn’t sure if it was because he was thirsty or because he wasn’t sure how to start. Finally he said, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but a courier sent from the naval air station was found murdered near Myrtle Beach last Sunday. He’d been stripped, and all identification and classified materials were removed from his person. The only way we were able to make a positive identification was because he was a native of Myrtle Beach and somebody was able to make a positive ID on the body.”